Nothing to Fear but Fear Itself
by AMaximander500
Summary: Fear is in town and everyone is a target, even those who fear nothing but fear itself.
1. Chapter 1

**I don't own Sam or Dean, or Supernatural. But I do own Tyson, Leah, Brian, and any other characters you don't recognize! Hope you enjoy!**

Drip drops from flying pieces of stray water splashed and dropped all along the solid and liquid surface, flowing along the manmade waves. Voices of talking, screams and laughter and splashing echoed throughout the room and the occasional blowing of a whistle from the man in red who sat on top of the white chair, cooling down the rough housing and the daredevils fussing on the high dive. The water was crystal clear. The scratches on the once piece of black lined tile was viewable.

Ty Gunner stared down at the crystal clear liquid as his heart pounded against his chest and the lump in his throat swelled, making it hard to swallow. Oh why didn't he just admit that he was afraid of the water in the first place? Why did he accept the damn invitation to this birthday pool party in the first place? Because what 14 year old is afraid of the water in the first place?

"Hey Ty! You coming in or what?" Leah Nichols, the girl who had invited Ty to the party in the first place and who made his knees turn to gel every time she was mentioned, called as she swam over to the edge of the pool on the shallow end where Ty was cowering.

"Um...yeah." Ty nodded.

"Good, we're playing 'Marco Polo' and...guess what? You're Marco!" Leah smirked as she slapped some water on Ty.

Ty put his arms up in defense as his side twisted and turned to be his front, the water slashing against his exposed skin and bathing suit, thinking that he was sure his name was Ty. He laughed and smirked at Leah like he was going to get her back for that. He didn't know what came over him, but he started making a run towards the pool where he'd jump in, but put the brakes on and halted right at the edge in panic. His heart began to race again.

"Are you ok?" Leah wondered.

"Yeah…it's just…I have this thing…a health thing. Initial cold water shock and I don't get along well." Ty fumbled with his fingers, hoping Leah would buy into his lie.

"But the water's like 82 degrees." Leah smiled and shook her head. "You're so cute!" She swam away to the other side.

Ty chuckled nervously as he waved at Leah who was swimming towards the group of party guests who were all hanging around one area of the deep end of the pool. He should have pretended to be sick this morning. It'd be easy because every time he talked to Leah, his heart raced and he felt like he was going to throw up, even more so now that a pool of water was involved. God he HATED the water. But this was a party with all of his friends, the popular kids and the girl he had been crushing on since the fifth grade. No way was he going to make a cowardly little baby out of himself now.

The 14 year old took a few steps back, sighed then made a dash for the pool. He jumped in the air and held his eyes, and breath, shut tight as he felt the coolness of the chlorinated pool water consume his body. Under the water, he sank towards the bottom, but never quite came into contact with the floor. His opened his eyes and let his limbs flow as he stayed in a sitting position, taking notice of all the lower bodies in bathing suits around him. A few people were swimming under the water, smiling, hair flowing through the crystal clear liquid that had the ability to present itself as three different forms. One of the swimmers waved to him since they were friends.

Ty was anxious. He hadn't been in the water, let alone under it, since he was a little kid while going through the experience that triggered his fear of water. He was flowing into the stages of panic, heart beating against his chest, the lump in his throat nearly choking him. He was ready to breakdown, hyperventilate but he knew what was going to happen if he did that. And he did not want a set of water filled lungs again. But he wasn't in open water and he wasn't in a lake or a river. There were no plants or rocks or anything that could hold him down. There was nothing down there but tile and the occasional pool toy that escape their respective owners. Nothing could hold him down and there were lifeguards and people all over the place. And he could swim, he just didn't like to. This was probably one of the last places where the odds of him drowning to death were unlikely. When Ty decided that he was going to be alright, for now anyway, he swam up to the surface, taking in a huge breath of oxygen, filling his protesting lungs. It felt good.

"Ty, you made it!" Leah smiled as she swam over to him. "I've never seen your hair wet and sticking against your forehead. I kinda like it."

"Really?" he smiled. 'Maybe I should start swimming again. Then Leah would be at my house all the time! Swimming in MY pool!' he thought.

"Yeah. It's cool. Come on, the game is starting," Leah said as she swam over to the deep end of the pool where everybody was waiting. Ty nodded as he mustered up the courage to make it over to the deeper end of the pool. Swimming was one thing, something he knew how to do. But trying to swim when Ty felt like he was drowning in the memory that haunted him was a whole other thing.

"Hey come on, Gunner!" one of the other party guests called, growing impatient while the group waved for Ty to get his ass over to them.

Ty took a breath then swam over to the group. But because he took his sweet ass time, and because he was dubbed as being Marco by Leah earlier, the kid who had called him over shoved Ty under the water, demanding that he count to 10 while the others swam away. Ty panicked and the bubbles were coming up fast as he flailed his arms up and down, trying to resurface. It was the swim and the attack of the lake plants all over again.

"Oh man! What a little pussy!" the kid laughed when Ty finally resurfaced. "Geese, man, can't you take a joke?!" he asked.

"That was low, Brian," Leah said as Ty swam over to the ledge of the pool and pushed himself out.

"What a pussy," Brian noted as Ty tried to control his heart rate.

Leah rolled her eyes and swam over to her frightened friend. Well, they weren't exactly friends, per say. They were more along the lines of just classmates who knew a little about each other. But Leah had always thought Ty was a nice guy, and his few friends seemed down to earth, not like most of the guys that loved to surround her.

"Hey," she said as she hopped up next to him. "You ok?"

"Eh, I'll be fine." he shrugged. "Can't believe you're actually talking to me and not laughing."

"Brian can be…a jerk," Leah said, not wanting to be rude. Really she wanted to say he was a fuming jackass who had no remorse for anyone and was like a hungry shark. Once he learned your fears and weaknesses, he charged and never let up, never went easy. "I'm sorry. I didn't know you didn't really know how to swim…"

"No, I know how to swim….I'm just…I'm afraid of the water…" Ty looked down, ashamed.

"Why are you so afraid?" Leah wondered as Ty looked at her, questioning why he should tell her. She'd probably just laugh at him. He's 14! It's pathetic to be afraid of the water! He couldn't even get into a bathtub of water without freaking out! "I promise I won't laugh. Everyone's afraid of something."

"I'm afraid of the thing that 75% of the human body is made up of. Trust me, whatever it is you're afraid of doesn't even come close to the level of embarrassment of what I'm afraid of and brings joy to my seven year old cousin who is in love with the water!"

"Ty, I'm afraid of clowns, absolutely terrified of them. I haven't been to a circus or an amusement park since I was seven because of them. And I'm not going to name names, but I know someone who is absolutely terrified of roller coasters. Seriously, no one can ever mention clowns and roller coasters to us without throwing us into a fit of panic."

As he stared down at the pool before him, Ty remembered the day his life was provisionally snatched from him. He was looking up at the surface where all of the oxygen his body so desired was stored, as it got smaller and smaller. Lesser and lesser before it was just a glimmering shine of small light as the sun shined down on it beneath the murkiness of the water. He fought tooth and nail against the water as his lungs burned and tightened up against him. Thrusting his fists forward as powerful as he could and kicking the one foot that wasn't caught, it was all he could do to try and save himself. But all it did was get his already trapped foot tangled further in the mesh of underwater plant life, eventually reaching up and wrapping around his ankle. His adrenaline was rushing so fast through his body, but his young mind was so focused on getting his head to the top first, that he didn't even think of trying to break the plants with his hands right then and there. Or maybe it was the fact that he was just a kid, not a survival expert, and he was panicking.

Minute by minute, second by second, his lungs tightened and burned. The water around him swirled and swirled and even went on to tease him with the bubbles that were floating by because of his body's motion. Ty then tried to pull his ankle and foot free with his hands, but the desire to take a nice, long, big breath of air was being dangled a little too close, like a worm on a well hidden hook hung before a hungry fish. Moments later, Ty couldn't take it. His body protested and forced itself against him as Ty opened his mouth wide and took a giant gulp of air replaced by an extra large drink of lake water. And everything went dark.

When Ty woke up, it had been a week and a half later. He had no recollection of anything that had happened after he blacked out. But he did remember being trapped by the plants, his struggle against them, and the gulp he took that he was told took his life away for seven minutes and 29 seconds exactly. He found out that Bryce was the one who saved him. That Bryce had seen deep down in the water, his blurred vision of a limp, free-flowing, lifeless brother. But he wasn't the one to pull Ty out. He was too young, wasn't strong enough and didn't have the lung capacity to work his brother free from the tangled mess he had gotten himself in. So he called for help. That's when Bryan and another visitor enjoying his day out on the lake dove into the water. They cut Tyson free, and Bryce was there to help pull his brother to the grass where Bryce had immediately started doing CPR because he had learned how to do so the week before in school.

Ty sighed. "I've been afraid of the water ever since."

Leah was speechless. She struggled to find the words to put into play, but how do you respond to someone who had gone through what Ty had gone through? "Wow…that's...I had no idea…." She finally found the words, jumbled and broken. "But, you know, you shouldn't be ashamed of being afraid. Anyone who went through what you did probably would never go near water again."

"But I'm 14, it's pathetic!"

"But you almost died! You're fear is valid. A clown got in my face and smiled…a deranged, creepy looking smile, when I was seven at a circus when they were trying to make me laugh and I've been afraid ever since. Want to talk about pathetic, I'm pathetic."

"No you're not." Ty smiled as he shook his head.

"Thanks….Listen, this place has an arcade in the lobby. We can go check it out if you want."

"Thanks, but no thanks. It's your party…and…well, I think six years is a long enough life span for this fear." Ty stood up and slipped back into the pool, determined to get over this fear.

The water splashed and slid against him and Ty hated the feeling of just floating around in the water on the deep end of the pool as he flailed and kicked his legs, keeping his head above water. His heart was pounding and his gaze was all over the place. He just couldn't get comfortable in his own chlorine water soaked skin. He kept trying to tell himself that there was nothing in the pool that could drag him down and hold him under. Not even Brian Jackass because the lifeguard would be on him so fast, Ty wouldn't even be able to fully panic under the water.

"Gunner, you gonna puke?" Brian laughed as he splashed a wave of water right in Ty's face.

"Yeah, right all over that disaster you call a face!" Ty threw back when he was able to open his eyes again which caused everyone in the pool to laugh, except Brian. He just glared at his water hating classmate.

After everyone's laughter dispersed and Brian chilled his guns and called off his comebacks at Ty, the game of Marco Polo commenced. But instead of Ty being Marco, Brian was dubbed as Marco. The second he sunk under the water, everyone swam away, keen on all hopping out of the pool and keeping it as low key as possible so none of them get called out as being a fish out of water. Brian looked like an idiot swimming around with his eyes shut, trying to get anyone involved in the game. Everyone stood around the pool, occasionally splashing or mocking a swimming sound to throw Brian off. Ty was especially planted in a garden of smirks at Brian's lack of common sense and refusal to catch on. But when 10 minutes had gone by and Brian had tagged no one, he began to wonder what happened to his insane hunter skills from all of those hunting trips with Dad, had gone and opened his eyes. Everyone pointed and mocked and laughed at him like he couldn't do anything right. Ty especially was in hysterics, grabbing onto his rib cage for some sort of support. Brian targeted his glare at Ty. He was not about to be mocked by a guy who looked like he was about to piss his pants every time he saw a pool. Brian made a dash towards the edge of the pool, slick like a dolphin and determined like a shark attracted to blood in water. He grabbed hold of Ty's ankle and pulled him in.

Ty's fists and hands pounded through the water and his lungs were constricting from the lack of oxygen. His eyes would shoot open and closed whenever the chlorine contaminated water would overwhelm his sparkling shades of baby blue. He projectile swung his arms out as far as they would go and kick his legs and feet with all his mighty force. But all he could think about was being eight years old, being at that lake and being held down. The fiery burning of his oxygen deprived lungs screamed in protest to be filled. But Ty knew all too well what would definitely happen once he took that glamorous breath of air. He began to panic. His heart raced and he yearned to hyperventilate out of panic. But Ty forced himself harder and harder to shoot up to the surface, but it was like something was holding him under. And the more and more he thought about it, the more and more he felt like he was eight years old…all over again…

_**I know there was no Dean and Sam in this chapter, but they will be in the next chapter! I promise! -AMaximander500**_


	2. Chapter 2

Dean and Sam Winchester were between heavy gigs. This week so far consisted of nothing but some salt and burnings at most. Dean was actually starting to get bored! Sam, however, was enjoying his long overdue break form hunting thins even someone's worst nightmare would fear.

The brothers were currently sitting at some outdoor café, the whole thing reminded Sam of his days at Stanford, when Sam walked up to Dean and said, "Think I found our next gig." He slapped the local newspaper down in front of his big brother while balancing his hot coffee in his free hand. "So this kid, Tyson Gunner, drowned in the local community pool Saturday afternoon," Sam commented, slapping the newspaper down in front of Dean, the page holding Ty's story flipped side up.

"'Tyson (Ty) Gunner, age 14…drowned in local community pool Saturday afternoon…a birthday party of one of his classmates. Witness Leah Nichols…Tyson was pulled under the water and held there…unseen force…lifeless body….Sonar swept the pool…investigated area…blah, blah, blah, police and investigators passed it off as a post traumatic stress hallucination on Nichols' part.'" Dean skimmed through the article before looking back up at Sam, clearly set on the hunt. "Ok, so either this was some kind of trick gone wrong by one of the other party goers, or…"

"Or something's down there that doesn't want to make itself known," Sam said. "The pool's been closed down for further investigation."

Dean nodded, taking the last gulp of his coffee before jumping up from his seat. In the back of his mind, this was probably nothing more than just another vengeful spirit. But it was a case, nonetheless. He led Sam to the Impala so they could take the investigation into their own hands. They weren't too far away from the scene of the crime which was an odd change for the boys because they were so accustomed to driving such long distances.

But when they got to the pool, they took out any and every single device they owned that would detect any and every demonic and phantom presence that was sure to be lurking in and around the pool, but they came up empty handed.

"I don't understand. I thought the paper said the kid was held down by something and wasn't let up until the bubbles stopped?" Dean questioned.

"That is what it said." Sam nodded.

"Ok, then why isn't anything coming up? Sure, the thing could slip past any NORMAL scanner, but ours?" Hey, maybe things were going to get interesting on this case after all?

"I don't know, Dean. Maybe whatever was here…left…" Sam never felt more ridiculousthan he did just now. A spirit that could leave it's designated haunting place? Not since the Dirk McGregor Jr. case at good ol' Truman High!

"Left?" Dean raised his eye brows and his eyes widened. "Sam, you do know that 99% of spirits **can't **leave the places they haunted," Dean said.

"Yeah, 99%. Maybe this one picked up a few tricks." Sam shrugged.

"So a spook getting creative, huh?" Dean smirked. He actually kind of like the sound of that. He was craving a good hunt, if such a thing were possible. "Well, you know what we gotta do next."

"Right, talk to the family. But, Dean, they just lost a kid. They're not going to be in a big hurry to talk to us."

"Sam, when as anyone, who ever lost someone, ever been in a hurry to talk to us?" Dean questioned. "Look, if we wanna save the rest of these people from whatever it is here, then we gotta make those people talk to us!" Dean said before walking out of the pool room.

Sam knew Dean was right. If this was a travelling, vengeful spirit, then it wasn't going to stop at just one victim. Lives were at stake, but these people just lost their child! They we're like the other families they typically dealt with; ones who lost someone who had lived a fairly long life. This kid was 14!

Dean recognized the look Sam was giving him and intervened before his little brother could protest. "Don't worry, Sammy. We'll just swing by the local church before we head over to the vic's house."

Following his brother outside of the pool room and eventually the hotel, Sam rolled his eyes and sighed. "Of course we will…"


	3. Chapter 3

**I know I promised to try and have the updates up before the end of the week, but life seriously got in the way. I had three tests and one paper due all a day apart from each other, then I got stuck at work late, and then Thanksgiving came. But in return, I give you three new updates to this story! Enjoy! -AMaximander500**

"You know, we're not exactly religious people, but it's nice to know that outsiders care," Cassandra Gunner said as she led Dean and Sam to the living room where her husband and other son sat.

"Well, I guess you're not going to be interested in our 'God has a plan for all of us' speech then." Dean smiled as he and Sam were invited to sit down on the couch.

"Mr. and Mrs. Gunner, we're very sorry to hear about Tyson's drowning," Sam said as Tyson's parents nodded. His brother, on the other hand, just hung out in the corner of the room with his arms crossed over his chest and a sour look on his face like he couldn't even believe he had to waste time listening to these two. He had other things on his mind. Of course Dean and Sam took notice right away.

"Mr. and Mrs. Gunner, the report said that witnesses claimed that Tyson was pulled and held under the water and wasn't released until he was gone. Did your son have a history of any suicidal thoughts or actions?" Dean wondered.

"No not at all!" Cassandra said. "Ty was a happy kid…for the most part."

"For the most part?" Sam questioned with raised eyebrows.

"Well, he went through some pretty rough stuff when he was eight, a lot of post traumatic stress after the near drowning incident," Bryan said. "He was diagnosed with Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, and has had a very strong phobia of water since the near drowning incident."

"Near drowning incident?"

"When Ty was eight, we went to a picnic at a lake. He was swimming in the lake with his brother and he got his ankle caught in a party of lake plants and nearly drowned to death. Then he went through a year and a half of basically living under fear and stress. Poor kid barely slept at night, spent a ton of time in and out of therapists' offices and wouldn't go anywhere near water, no matter what."

"Was he on any type of medication for his PTSD?" Dean asked.

"He was in the beginning. First it was medicine to help him sleep because he wasn't sleeping at all, then the anti anxiety and stress reducing medicine was added, but he wasn't on that one very long. He said it made him feel like a zombie, so he stopped taking it," Cassandra explained. "We went through a lot of adjustments with those meds, but Ty never fully felt comfortable taking any of them."

"So he's been off of them for awhile then?" Dean asked as Bryan and Cassandra both nodded. "Do you think that maybe Tyson was only imagining he was back at that lake while he was in the pool?"

"What…you mean like, a flashback?" Bryan asked.

"Flashbacks to a past traumatic event are common in those who suffer from Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, are they not?" Sam asked.

"Well, yeah, they are. But Ty's been going through a lot of intensive therapy since he chose to stay off any type of medication. He hasn't had a flashback of any type about the accident for a long time!" Bryan said. "Do you…Fathers do you really think that Ty could have drowned over a flashback?" Bryan asked as he locked eyes with Sam and Dean with wonderment. The thought of his youngest drowning over something that they all thought was under control was something Bryan could never let go of.

"Well it could be possible. Was Tyson displaying any symptoms of slipping back into the symptoms of his disorder?" Sam asked.

"Ty never said anything to us," Cassandra said as she and Bryan locked hands.

Bryce, who was lurking in the back end of the family's living room, leaning against the white painted wall with his arms crossed over his chest, laughed as quietly as he could and rolled his piercing blue eyes. Cassandra and Bryan may not have caught their son's nearly silent remark, but Sam sure did.

Sam looked over at the tall, semi-athletic built teenager dressed in all black, his dark hair spiked in the same style as Dean's, he blatantly stood out in contrast against the white wall in his black t-shirt and black jeans.

"Mr. and Mrs. Gunner, has your other son mentioned any type of change in Tyson's behavior since getting invited to the party?" Sam asked.

"Well…no, he hasn't." Bryan shook his head. "Bryce hasn't said much of anything to anyone since his brother's accident."

'Hm…interesting,' Sam thought. "Would either of you mind if I spoke with Bryce for a few minutes?"

Hearing the one thing that Bryce owned, but was used by other people more than him, Bryce's facial features changed from "You can't be serious!" to a mixture of confusion and surprise. He dropped his crisscrossed arms to his sides and stormed out of the living room in favor of his bedroom upstairs.

Bryan watched as his oldest tried to vanish, thinking that it was just another typical thing his son had been doing since he turned 14. He sighed and said, "Sure. His room is the first door on the left, upstairs."

Sam nodded thanks in the Gunner's way, and left Dean behind to keep up with the religious talk so they didn't blow their cover.


	4. Chapter 4

Sam knocked on the door three times to Bryce's bedroom once he climbed the stairs and found it. And even when Bryce didn't answer, he granted himself entrance and saw the 16 year old, sitting on his bed, his knees up, and a hardcore music magazine in his hands. No doubt Bryce had the magazine for some time now since the corners were bent and the spine was cracked.

Sam looked around the room, trying to find some kind of ice breaker. But the way Bryce's room was decorated it looked more of Dean's speed. Rock music posters all over the wall, CD's scattered all over Bryce's dresser, t-shirts and shorts and jeans scattered throughout the room, an electric guitar and amp sitting on the corner next to a shelf of lesson books from beginner to advanced, even books of sheet music from various rock bands.

"Sorry to hear about your brother," Sam said as he went to go sit next to Bryce on his bed.

"Yeah, whatever," Bryce said, keeping his eyes locked onto his magazine.

"I heard you were the one who picked up the phone when the hospital called?"

"Yeah." Bryce nodded.

"Bet you never thought it'd be a hospital calling on your brother's behalf, huh?"

"No."

Sam sighed and bit his lip. This was getting him nowhere. "…Bryce, may I call you 'Bryce'?"

"Well, it is my name." The teenager shrugged, flipping the page of his magazine.

"Yeah," Sam shrugged. "…That's a good band." He pointed to the magazine, even though he had no idea who the featured band on the cover was. "You and Tyson listen to them?"

"Me more so than Ty," Bryce said before he dropped the magazine and looked over at Sam. "He was just starting to get into them. We were supposed to go see them in concert next month."

"Guess you're going to call that concert off?" Sam wondered.

"Already sold the tickets," Bryce said.

"I'm really sorry to hear about your brother, Bryce," Sam offered again.

"You're not going to slap me with a whole 'God has a plan for all of us. He was calling to Ty, it was his time to go home to God' speech, are you?"

"Not if you don't want me to." Sam smiled. "But if you happen to know something about your brother that your parents don't…it could help."

Bryce looked at Sam, really studied him for a moment before he said, "You're not really a priest, are you?" Bryce looked over at Sam with a smirk on his face.

"Why would you think that?"

"Because what priest asks questions about suicide or someone's mental state of health and what they may have seen right before they died? Isn't that talk like…illegal in religious law or whatever? Plus you gave up WAY too easily on trying to preach about God when me and my parents said we're not religious people."

"Well, I'm a more liberal type of priest."

"A liberal priest? So like…Baptist pastor?" Bryce went to school with a kid whose father was a Baptist pastor. He didn't know the kid or the family personally, but he did know that the kid's father was a pretty open on what happens when a person dies.

"I know what it's like to be young, Bryce. Trust me, I am more open to believing different possibilities than most other priests or pastors in my religion," Sam said. "So your brother suffered from Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder?"

"I was the one who pulled him outta that lake when it happened," Bryce admitted. "Saw he was missing, knew he had been in the lake, dove in, his ankle was tangled in a bunch of plants. I yanked him free and pulled him to the surface and screamed for someone to call 911."

"And then you get a phone call years later saying your brother drowned to death…"

"In a friggin' hotel swimming pool. Where there were no plants, no rip tide, nothing to possibly pull Ty under and drown him."

"How was Ty before the party?"

Bryce shrugged. "Excited at first. Pool party with a girl Ty's liked since his first year in junior high….He acted like he was on top of the world until he had three days to go for the party. That's when he realized there'd be a pool, there'd be a bunch of his classmates, one jackass almost everyone would like to throw off a bridge, and he would have to get into the water. Ty hasn't been in a pool, the ocean, a lake, or any type of body of water since he was 8!"

"So he was freaking out," Sam said.

"Freaking out to the point where I had to put an end to at least five panic attacks before they started."

"Did he start having flashbacks again?"

"He said he would dream that he was at the lake, reliving the event. And after he'd wake up from that, he'd dream about the same thing happening at the hotel pool. But I told him it was a lot safer at the pool, there was nothing down there to get tangled in, and it was Leah Nichols' party. If he blew it now, he wouldn't get a second chance. And he believed me. I even tossed him in our hot tub and made him sit under the water until he was a lot less panicky about the whole pool party situation."

"You tossed him in a hot tub and held him under?" Sam asked incredulously.

"He and I planned it out! I told him if he practiced sitting under water in something with a manmade bottom that nothing bad would happen to him! I was watching out for him the whole time! And we only did it when our parents weren't home! I was just trying to get my little brother over his fears!" Bryce tried to explain. "Besides, it was Ty's idea to use the hot tub."

"And did it work?" Sam asked.

"He went to the party, he got into the pool, I even heard he went under the water, so I'd say it did something," Bryce said. "So now explain to me, how could someone who knows how to swim, is in a pool with a bunch of other, people, and with a friggin' lifeguard on duty, how does that someone drown?!"

"Honestly, Bryce, I don't know," Sam shook his head. "But I promise you this, even though it's too late, I will find an answer for you."


	5. Chapter 5

**This chapter is my brother's idea. He and I were brainstorming different fears and since Sam and Dean already did an episode involving fear of flying and a plane crashing, he offered the idea of skydiving. Hope you enjoy! Credit goes to my bro!**

"Tomorrow's the day, Alex! The day you finally take the big plunge!" Chris slapped his coworker on the shoulder a few times before sitting down next to him, putting the giant headphones on before he and Alex were back on the airwaves of FM radio entertainment.

Alex sat in front of the controls, arms crossed, elbows leaning on a little spacious opening with his back hunched. He tried to pretend that he couldn't hear Chris because he was already wearing his giant, unwanted sound resistant headphones, but Chris' voice broke through anyway. Alex sighed and shook his head. He felt like he was going to throw up.

"So, tell me again, Alex, what face exactly are you going to me making? The 'I'm so scared I'm gonna die!' face or the 'I'm gonna cry and piss my pants like a frightened little baby' face?" Chris smirked as he poked even more fun at his friend.

"Gee, I donno, Chris. Which face are you gonna be wearing when I punch your jaw in? The 'I'm so scared I'm gonna die!' face or the 'I'm gonna cry and piss my pants like a frightened little baby' face?" Alex questioned as he shot a glare at his radio DJ partner.

"Man, if you hate flying _and_ heights, then why the _hell_ are you going skydiving?"

Alex sighed and slid down in his chair as he rubbed his eyes. Saturday marked the five year anniversary between Alex and his girlfriend Kelsey, and they wanted to do something memorable and different. Kelsey loved the feeling of a good adrenaline rush, the feeling of an undiscovered adventure. She loved the thrills and mysteries that life had to offer and was the kind of person to be the first in line for a haunted house or a gory and suspenseful horror film. Normally, Alex was right at her side when it came to life's adventures. He'd hike deep into the woods, go off the trails and get lost just for the sake of getting lost. He'd camp out in some old cemetery and be the first in line for a new monster movie. But this? Flying? Heights? Planes? Jumping out of a plane?! What the hell was he thinking?! For God's sake, he didn't even own a two story house cause he wouldn't even be able to look out the window and NOT get nauseous!

"It's for her," Alex managed to say, even mustering up enough strength to look over at Chris. Right now, he'd be less nervous asking Kelsey to marry him than what they had in store for Saturday.

"Dude, how did you even make it through all the classes?" Chris couldn't resist. He just had to let a few laughs slip by him.

"They don't take you up in the planes during the classes, you idiot! Just…on the day you actually…" Alex dipped his hand in a falling motion, making Chris laugh harder.

"So it's sorta like a final exam? Only in your case, Alex, 'F' doesn't just stand for 'failing.' It also stands for 'flying' and 'falling.' But just to show you I'm a nice guy, I'm gonna throw an 'A' your way." Chris smirked.

"What? For effort?"

"No! 'A' for 'Alex is gonna piss his pants and go into cardiac arrest right in midair because he's afraid!'" Chris laughed as the red light that told them they were about ready to go on the air flashed.

"You're an idiot," Alex said before he connected their station to the airwaves of public radio. "Hello, all you wonderful rockin' listeners out there! Missed us? I sure hope so. For all of you who are just joining us, you're tuning into 102.7 Dragon Rock."

"Yes, ladies and gents, it's our favorite time of the day! Work has just let out, your spouse has just started dinner, the kids are home, and you're stuck in rush hour traffic. You're gonna want to avoid taking Nicolai Rd. South, the traffic is just outta control there. Just got word in that there's been some kinda accident, nothing fatal, but one guy is going to have to total the front fender of his car, so traffic is backed up. But Nicolai Rd. North is moving, a little rough because the south end is closed off, but rest assure, you will make steady movements and get home," Chris said.

"Ya know, speaking of steady movements, Alex and I were discussing airplanes and skydiving just a few moments ago, and personally, I am a go forth and jump type of guy with this kinda thing. There is nothing like free falling through the sky, the wind rushing against your entire being. I sure hope evolutions goes in favor for the human race and gives us wings in the next couple of hundred or thousands of years!"

"Alright, while you guys calculate which back roads you're gonna be taking to avoid traffic, and give some thought about evolution, here's some music to get you through the madness. It's Breaking Benjamin with their hit song, 'Breath.' Once again you're tuning into 102.7 Dragon Rock," Alex said before he switched on the music. "Really, Chris?"

"What? I didn't say, 'Oh, Alex hates flying, and he's going skydiving with his girlfriend _this_ Saturday and he's freaked out of his mind!'"

"Dude just shut up!" Alex held up his hands like he was defending himself and pushed them forward slightly as he spoke to further push his point on Chris that he doesn't want to even think about jumping out of a plane and free falling at God knows how many miles an hour with the only thing saving him that also had the odds of going wrong was a parachute, let alone _talk _about it! But Chris kept pushing his luck and friendship.

"Listen, Alex, you're a good friend of mine. We're radio DJ partners. So I'm gonna try and help you out. It's just too bad you don't have an identical twin or a clone!" Chris busted out laughing at the last part before he went into hysterics. "Oh man, I'm sorry, dude! I can't help it!" He pounded his fist against his chair. Eyes sealed tight, grin as large as the universe.

"I'm thrilled you can get a good laugh at my expense," Alex stated.

"Ok, look," Chris began to calm down, "On a serious note, pretend you're sick! Pale up the face, freeze the hands and heat up the forehead! And just a few minor details, stay up all night to get them dark circles under your eyes and that exhausted look on your face and inhale the tearing scent of onions to get the water works moving. Oh and only drink red liquids for a couple of days so it looks like your throat is red. Red lollipops help too."

"Do you do this professionally or something, on the side?" Alex questioned as he squinted his eyes and shook his head in utter disbelief.

"At least once during cold and flu season when was in middle school. Hated that place…" Chris rolled his eyes.

Alex thought about playing the sick card. Honestly, Kelsey didn't know that he was deadly afraid of heights and flying, so she wouldn't suspect him of getting sick on purpose to get out of skydiving. But then again, Alex wasn't wild about the idea of lying to her with this, especially since he planned on proposing. How was he supposed to live with these double lies over his head? Plus, he knew that he and Kelsey would have to reschedule the skydiving. Kelsey was way too psyched to do this as it has always been her lifelong dream.

"No. I can't." Alex shook his head. "I'm just…just gonna have to do this."

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'Why the hell am I doing this?' Alex thought as he sat, waiting for his turn at sudden death. The jet he, Kelsey, the rest of the daring skydivers, and the instructor are in is in full swing. Way above the ground, traveling fast, the wind rushing as it pushes its way against the jet with the door open is no comfort. While Alex is ready to head on into cardiac arrest, the rest of the sky divers are painted with smiles as their eyes sparkle through their protective eye gear and the instructor screaming out directions over the roars of the jet engine and the sounds of the rushing wind as it slips by. Jet. He can't get that word out of his head. Apparently, the word can become a name if you just add an extra "T" at the end. Kelsey is officially set on naming her child Jett.

One by one, the divers linger momentarily over the edge, some taking a quick shot of air in and blowing it out, before taking a leap of thrill. Out the side of the plane they go as they free fall towards the ground. They're enjoying every second of it. Kelsey is jumping out of her seat and her skin. She can't wait for it to be hers and Alex's turn. Two more people to go. For Kelsey, it's two people too long, for Alex, it's two people, isn't there someone else who wants to go before me?! I'll pay you a hundred bucks!

Alex gestured to Kelsey with a painted smile, ladies first. She kissed him before she failed to hesitate jumping out of the plane and free falling at what Alex couldn't even guess miles-per-hour. He couldn't imagine how she was doing this with such courage. So fear whatsoever was flowing through her veins, even as she fell through the wind. Or so Alex imagined…

"Hey, buddy, you're next!" the skydiving instructor patted Alex on the shoulder and gave him a thousand watt smile. "It's a thrill like no other! You'll have a blast!" He had seen people like Alex hundreds of time. They offered everyone else to go before them, they question their motives, they hesitate as they look over the edge, they take a big gulp, and a long, deep breath, and then they usually jump. They're the last to jump out of the plane, but they're the ones who have the biggest thrill.

"It's now or never, Alex!" the skydiving instructor said a few minutes later. "We're going to land soon!"

Alex felt like he was going to throw up. His swimming head had him seeing double and the bile in his throat had him on the verge of choking because it started to burn, bad. But he had to do this! He had to, for Kelsey. He always told himself if he didn't start taking risks with her in his life now than he never would. And he didn't want to leave a fear-filled, thrill-less life. So with one deep breath, Alex moved over to the edge and stepped outside.

The hard rush of air forcing its way up, the highest view of the ground and everything below, and the rush that was riding its way through Alex with such power made him feel no more comfortable than when he was sitting in the plane and the instructor opened the door for the first daring jumper. Alex felt his heart pound and race against his chest. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't blink, he couldn't think! He hated the feeling. He hated the wind rushing against him, and he hated hearing the other skydivers scream out of joy and thrill they were experiencing. He felt like he was being thrown and jerked around, and there was nothing he could do about it.

The dizziness that was plaguing Alex while he was on the plane came back with a vengeance. His head was swimming so hard, he began to feel nauseous. And then the panic attack hit. His breathing hyperventilated and he couldn't take control. The once bright, warm, sunny sky started to get darker and darker as Alex lost all control of his body and passed out.

Kelsey came lower and lower to the ground and landed on her own two feet with her parachute blowing against the wind. Once she stopped, she looked up towards the sky for Alex, a 1000 watt grin plastered on her face. It was amazing! She loved it! The wind rushing against her entire being, the view, the rush! It was fantastic! She'd definitely do it all over again and again.

But as the rest of the skydivers started landing and high-fiving each other, and Alex never showed, Kelsey began to worry. She looked at all of them, thinking maybe she just didn't recognize Alex beneath all of the equipment they had to wear. But that was ridiculous! Alex could be covered entirely in a costume, mask and all, and she'd still be able to recognize him. She and Alex had been together for five years!

"Hey, guys, have you seen Alex?" Kelsey asked after running up to a couple of the other skydivers. They both shook their heads no, and said they were pretty sure he jumped out last.

"But don't you think he should have landed by now?" she asked.

"Someone call 911! We've got a crash landing about a mile away!" someone yelled as a group of people ran over to the supposed-to-be-empty field, and all Kelsey could think of was that the person out there had to be Alex.


	6. Chapter 6

Dean was sitting on his motel bed looking through the articles about Tyson Gunner's drowning, as well as the records on the hotel and its property, trying to see if there was something he missed that would explain Ty's drowning while Sam was out at the coroner's office looking over Ty's body. But there was literally nothing to be found within the papers. The history of the hotel was clean, the property never saw anything gruesome or negative in its entire existence, and there was no history of anyone drowning in the pool, or anyone dying in the pool room.

Dean started to think maybe it was all in the kid's head. Although he never heard of anyone dying from a Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, he supposed with everything else in the world that he's seen anything was possible. The human mind was capable of doing some pretty amazing things.

"Hey," Sam said coming inside their motel room, slamming the door behind him.

"Get in to see the body?" Dean asked, tossing the papers aside.

"Yeah," Sam said taking off his suit jacket.

"And?"

Throwing his jacket down hard on the one of the two chairs in their room, Sam said, "And there was absolutely NOTHING strange, odd, different, or supernatural related about it." He tossed his arms by his sides in defeat and sighed in frustration. "But while I was there, three more bodies were brought in. Anne Richards who died of a heart attack, Devin Teague who died of an asthma attack, and Alex Jaeger who died of severe trauma."

"…Sam, you do know that people die of a variety of things every day, right?" Dean checked.

"Yeah, but while I was out, I checked into the vics. Anne Richards died of a heart attack while riding a roller coaster with her eight year old son. Devin Teague was hiking with a group of friends, decided they were going to explore some small, old cave, got claustrophobic and panicked, suffered an asthma attack and died. And Alex Jaeger went skydiving with his girlfriend of five years, and crash landed. Authorities are thinking he lost consciousness in midair because he never released his parachute. Skydiving instructor said he was on the verge of a panic attack while they were in the plane," Sam explained.

"Is there any connection?" Dean asked.

"From what I can tell, all four of the vics were doing something that they were afraid of right before they died," Sam said.

"What were they trying to face their fears or something?" Dean wondered.

"Not from what I can tell, besides that Tyson Gunner kid."

"I've heard of some extreme fears knocking people unconscious, but actually ending their lives?!" Dean said. "You think maybe it's ghost sickness?"

"I don't know…maybe…" Sam wasn't so sure it was exactly ghost sickness. There were too many victims for starters, none of them seemed to the others even existed, and the death scenarios were different and took out the victims a little too fast. Plus the victims were just mainly scared of the one thing that they were doing when they died, not afraid of every single thing that came into their view like people who suffer from ghost sickness.

"What else do you think it could possibly be, Sam? We've got a pile of vics, all dying from their worst fears, in the same city, in the same state."

"No, fear definitely does have something to do with all of the vics, but I'm not so sure ghost sickness has anything to do with it," Sam said. "We haven't seen a ghost in days, no one in this town has reported any type of ghost activity, and none of the vics or anyone around them was sick. I checked the medical and police reports."

"Great. So what now? We wait for someone else to die so we can go to the crime scene and see if whatever it is left any evidence behind?" Dean asked as Sam shrugged.

"It's kind of the only thing we've got going for us…"

Although both brothers didn't like the idea of sitting around and waiting to hear about another fear-filled attack, Sam was right, it was the only thing that was going for them. Whatever it was seemed to know how to work its way around everyone and make all of the deaths seem like just a horrible, freaky coincidence…or a worse nightmare come to life.

It was now 10:30 at night and across town, whatever it was had his eyes locked on his next frightened victim. Children were an easy target, but scaring a child was like taking candy from a baby, literally. They were so simple, but whatever it was found them to be the most rewarding. They didn't fight off what they were afraid of like adults did. They didn't deny or repress what makes people human. They just surrendered to it. So when they were scared to death, their fear and reactions tasted way more pure…

"Mommy," three and a half year old Todd Talanski whimpered as he coward around the corner of the hallway.

Liza Talanski, Todd's mother, sighed. She didn't need to ask her son what was wrong. Night after night, she and her husband have been going through the monster in the closet phase for the past few weeks. And this was the third time tonight that Todd came crawling out of his room.

"Todd, this isn't a game anymore. I put you to bed three times already."

"But, Mommy! The monster! It wants me!"

"Todd, I checked your closet, I checked under the bed and the basement. The monster isn't there."

"He is now! I heard him growling! He's in my closet!"

"Did you turn on your nightlight?" Liza asked. Todd nodded. "How about the monster spray I gave you? Did you use that?"

"I'm not opening the closet! The monster will eat me!" Todd went wide eyed as he looked at his mother like she was insane. "When's Dad gonna be home? He can scare the monster away."

Todd's dad, Donald, was a firefighter and he used to be in the air force. He also had achieved a black belt in mixed martial arts when he was 18 years old. Todd knew his dad was strong and brave. No monster would dare mess with him.

"Not until tomorrow morning, Todd," Liza said as she stood up and closed her book with the intention of putting her son back to bed.

Liza tucked her son into his fire truck toddler bed and kissed him goodnight. And just to show Todd that there was nothing to be scared of she opened the closed and did a thorough inspection. Todd hid under the covers the entire time.

"See, Todd, Nothing to be scared of. No monsters in your closet."

Todd peaked his head out from under the covers just enough so he could get a glimpse at the closet. He saw his mom standing there, gesturing to the clothes and such that were the only things in the closet. But Todd wasn't convinced. The monster must have been hiding. It wasn't Liza it wanted.

Liza tucked her young son into bed, kissed his head and said goodnight to him before walking towards the door and letting herself out. The monster wasn't in Todd's closet when his mom was around, but the second that bedroom door was closed and the room went silent, the growling and the slow scratching started. Todd coward and pulled the blankets closer to his face, stopping just at the bottoms of his eyes. Slowly the closet door opened as the monster growled Todd's name and its world record long and sharp claws crawled around the edge of the white wooden door and gripped it. Its demon red shining eyes glared and sliced its way through the dark atmosphere that always seemed intent on focusing on that one area.

"MOMMY!" Todd screamed for his life as Liza climbed down the stairs.

"Go to sleep, Todd," was the last thing Liza said to her son before she found him dead in his bed a few hours later as she checked up on him before she originally planned to go to bed herself.


	7. Chapter 7

It was 10 o'clock in the morning on a Saturday and Liza had just finished her last cup of coffee as her husband, Donald, had just drifted off into a deep sleep. Normally, Todd was wide awake at the crack of six AM, ready to pull apart the bottom cabinets in the kitchen, looking for some Pop Tarts to eat before plopping himself in front of the TV for a spree of Saturday morning cartoons. But today, everything was in order, the new box of Pop Tarts was sealed, and the TV was never turned on. It concerned Liza that maybe her son was sick. But then again, Todd went down late last night, and probably didn't get much sleep with this whole "monster's gonna get me" phase he was going through. Either way, both paths of thought led her up the stairs and checking on her son.

"Todd?" she asked as she opened the door to her son's bedroom. "Todd?" she asked again only to see the blankets thrown off her son's bed, the sheets hanging off and Todd's beloved puppy-dog lying flat on its stomach right in front of the closet door that was ajar. Flicking off the night light that was still on Liza looked over at the closet questioningly. Sometimes Todd did odd things, like all kids do as they develop their understanding of the world around them. She figured this was just one of those times, so she smiled and walked over to the closet.

"Todd? What are you doing in there?" she asked as she opened the closet, only to find clothes hanging neatly, and a few scattered pairs of sneakers, dress shoes and boots lying on the bottom of the closet. No Todd. Liza didn't understand. She heard no noise upstairs, Todd's door had been shut, the two windows in his room were hidden behind curtains, closed, all of the other rooms in the house were either contained by closed doors or just empty of human presence. But that's when Liza noticed the long and thick running claw marks running along the hardwood floor. Liza knelt down. Confusion crossed her features as she inspected the claws. They were almost…monster like….But how was that even possible?

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Blue and red lights sitting on top of a cop car flashed around and around as cops and investigators searched the Talanski property. Neighbors watched from their driveways, over their fences and from the street in wonderment. Dean and Sam shoved their way through the growing crowd of people, flashing their FBI badges a few times for false proof.

"I don't know! He just kept talking about a monster trying to get him! To eat him! But he's three years old! That's what three year olds do! It's the monster phase!" Liza begged the cop to believe her as she told the tale of how her son went missing, the claws on the floor starting from the bed and ending at the closet, and how there were absolutely no signs, whatsoever, of a break in or forced entry anywhere.

"Excuse us, ma'am, Agents Smith and Johnson. FBI," Dean said as he and Sam protruded their badges of false federal agents identity. "Mind if we ask you a few questions?"

"Ask anything you want! Just as long as it helps find my baby!" Liza said.

"Ma'am, you said that your son went missing from his room, but there were no signs of forced entry whatsoever?"

"Yes! Nothing!" Liza said. "It's like whoever was there was inside already waiting for him!" she cried and sobbed into the palms of her hands. She just wanted her baby back. She wanted to take back last night. If she had just believed in Todd's cries a little more, if she didn't just shrug off that last cry of, "MOMMY!" then she and her husband would be living out their routine Saturday mornings with an enthusiastic little boy watching "Ben 10."

"And you were home with your son all night. You didn't witness any suspicious activity on or near the property?"

"No, everything was quiet. Just like any other night!" Liza said. "And he and I were home all day! There's no way someone could have gotten in without us knowing!"

"I see." Dean smiled and nodded. "What about you, sir?" He turned to Donald.

"I was at work all night. I didn't get home until around six this morning." Donald shook his head as he stood next to his wife, still like the trained shoulder he was with his muscular arms crossed over his chest. He was trying his best to keep everything together, but his eyes spoke an undeniable truth on so many levels that he couldn't believe this was happening to his family. His boy…gone.

"My husband's a fire fighter. He works at the local station. Normally he doesn't work the night shift, but he's been covering for a coworker who got injured." Liza felt the need to explain her husband's pajama pants, old band t-shirt and in-the-process messed up hair. Maybe it was to clarify that he's definitely not the one who took Todd or did anything to Todd.

"You didn't happen to receive any strange calls while on the job last night, did you?" Sam asked.

"No nothing out of the ordinary." Donald shrugged. "And nothing was out of place when I got home. Todd's door was closed which was kind of weird. He's usually up early on Saturdays in particular to watch cartoons. 'Ben 10' is his favorite. But my wife had called and said he was up and about, crying about a monster looking to eat him all night."

"Would you mind if we checked out the house?" Dean asked as Liza shook her head and Donald shrugged, throwing a "sure" the brothers' way.

Naturally nothing was, or in the brothers' case, seemed out of place. There were a few toys scattered here and there, but that just showed that a child lived in the house. Todd's room was surprisingly neat and organized for a toddler's room. The Talanski's wish they could say the same for the playroom downstairs though…

"Think it's safe to say you were right, Sam," Dean began. "It's not ghost sickness." Dean said as he and Sam started to become in need of finding something supernaturally wrong with the room. Now the need for whatever it was going around making people die in their worst case scenarios had to be something physical for Dean. If someone or something had the balls to come in and gank a child, Dean made a mutual promise to make them dead. He'd start with ripping their lungs out and slowly rip out and tear everything that made whatever it was tick. But there seemed to be nothing wrong with the room. The clothes in the drawers were folded neatly, the baby blue with a tint of white shade wallpapered walls still looked band freakin' new. The fire truck toddler bed that sat across from the closet was definitely new. Nice touch to the central Jr.-firefighter-in-training baby theme to the room that was once a nursery.

Sam could see the need rising in his brother of a physical thing being the one who did this. It never was a secret to him after seeing his brother reach down to Lucas Barr's need to be heard, to be believed, about something being in Lake Manitoc, that Dean had a big soft spot for kids underneath his hunter, tough guy "give 'em hell," attitude.

"Hey, Dean," Sam said as Dean turned around to face his giant little brother. Sam motioned in a nodding gesture to the floor. Dean quickly knew why. There were four, at least two inches wide in diameter, claw marks running along the dark, hardwood floor in Todd's room starting at the little boy's bed and leading straight into the closet. But upon inspection, moving around clothes and foot wear, the closet was undisturbed. But the gigantic claw marks led straight to the wall in the closet. Sam knelt down and Dean turned on the mini flashlight he decided to keep handy specifically for that day and shined it into the closet. Sam knocked on the wall and searched for any hidden locks or handles or latches anywhere, but there was nothing to be found. It was just a regular old closet.

"So…monster in the closet…" Dean nodded, taking everything in.

"What else could it be?" Sam shrugged. "It's a three year olds worst nightmare."

"So assuming this monster thing-"

"Closet monster."

"Right, closet monster. So…closet monster wrecks havoc on the kid's imagination, I say taunts him for a bit, has him peering out from under the covers and then…eats…him…?"

"Well Todd's mom did say Todd was crying about the…closet monster…eating him."

"Yeah, but there's no such thing as a REAL closet monster!" Dean protested. "And besides, how could something as big as a closet monster hide in a small closet all night, grab a child, eat the child, and then just vanish into thin air without anyone knowing it was even there?"

"'S a good question…" Sam said considering absolutely NONE of the rational explanations that would even begin to make sense, even in the insane lives of the brothers Winchester.

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After Sam and Dean had failed to come up with anymore evidence or any rational explanations, they left the Talanski house in promise that they would look into the case as much as possible. It wasn't very comforting for Liza and Donald, and Sam and Dean highly doubted that Todd would ever return home, but it was the tiniest, dullest bit of hope anyone could cling onto.

Driving back to their motel, theorizing and trying to put all of the evidence together, Sam and Dean had a big steaming pile of nothing. All they had were a pack of fears, a bunch of worst case scenarios come to life, and a missing child.

"Maybe it's the Trickster," Dean suggested as he drove along the empty back road.

"Mmm…nah, not comical enough," Sam said.

"Well, it's not ghost sickness, it's not the Trickster, the deaths are too random for it to be a vengeful spirit…what the hell is it?" Dean shook his head as he looked over at Sam.

"How long before we get to Bobby's?" Sam asked.

"About an hour." Dean shrugged.

Sam nodded before Dean stepped on the gas pedal even harder, pushing his beloved Impala to go faster, to which she did not protest. She roared her engine and purred in vibration as she sped down the road, bring Sam and Dean to Bobby's in less time than they had originally thought.


	8. Chapter 8

**Hey everyone! Thanks for the awesome reviews! Glad you're enjoying the story. This chapter features Bobby (Yay!), but I don't own him (Booo!). Some more credit goes to my brother who gave me a helping hand in this chapter. Hope you all enjoy! –Amaximander500**

When the brothers pulled up to Bobby's old house, Rumsfeld, who was lounging on one of Bobby's old pick-up trucks, lifted his head and immediately started barking, even though he recognized the '67 Impala when it had pulled up.

'That damn dog,' Bobby thought as he looked behind his old dusty curtains and saw Sam and Dean step out of the Impala. He received word from them earlier that they were only an hour and a half in distance, and were heading his way. Digging up every old text and piece of literature that he had on fear deaths, which was not a lot, Bobby had already begun research and already had a theory.

After opening the door when Dean and Sam got close enough to his house, Bobby greeted them with a, "Boys."

"Hey, Bobby," Sam said, stepping inside.

"What's going on, Bobby?" Dean asked, following Sam in suite.

"Find anything that could possibly explain any of these deaths?" Sam asked already heading for Bobby's wall of literature.

"One." Bobby shrugged. "Fear."

Sam and Dean looked at each other for a minute. They already knew fear was what was going through the victims' minds when they all died.

"Like…just regular…fear?" Sam asked.

"That would kind of explain Tyson, Anne, Alex, and Devin, but not really Todd…" Dean agreed.

"Not just that kind of fear, I'm talking like Fear. Fear as in a walking, talking figure goin' around makin' folks die of their worst fears," Bobby said going over to one of his dusty, old, leather bound book on his tiny table that had seen better days. "And he's been rollin' across town." Bobby sipped on his shot of whisky. He motioned for Sam and Dean to read over the text that he had bookmarked, depicting Fear as an actual figure in some cultures.

"So…Fear is in town…" Dean said, trying to fit the pieces of the puzzle together, studying the picture of the dark clothed figure. This was definitely one of the weirdest hunts they've ever taken on. Fear was an actual figure? Not just an emotion? Well, at least now the deaths started to make sense. Nothing else connected them other than the fact that they were the victims' biggest fears and they were all in the same part of the same state.

"That's what I said, ya idjit," Bobby said. "Some cultures believe that if enough people give into their fears long enough, it'll eventually accumulate itself into a figure that can walk around and interact with its victims, eventually making them die of their worst fears. Sometimes Fear makes the scenario physical, other times it's an illusion."

"So, like, a monster in the closet," Dean said.

"Monster in the closet, under the bed, in the basement, where ever the kid thinks it's hiding." Bobby shrugged.

"What about grabbing onto people, like Tyson Gunner. He was held under the water by an unseen force in a hotel swimming pool until he drowned to death," Sam said.

"It's possible. Like I said before, person believes in their fear enough, anything can happen."

"And Fear can be seen and unseen?" Dean asked.

"Fear can make itself look like anything it needs to look like, even if it needs to pretend it's water, or a voice inside a person's head."

Now if Fear was an actual walking figure…. "So…how do we hunt this thing?" Dean wondered.

"Well, I heard a saying that the only thing to fear is fear itself," Sam said.

"Well, I guess then we're gonna be hunting a couple spiders, huh, Sam?" Dean smirked with a smug look on his face and in his voice. He loved Sam, would die for Sam, had died for Sam, but sometimes there was nothing better than making a joke out of his baby brother's expense…even if the fear was old.

"Dean, I was afraid of spiders when I was seven," Sam reminded his brother.

"So, what, you're eight now…?"

"DEAN!"

"Will you idjits concentrate?!" Bobby intervened.

"Sam started it," Dean muttered as he crossed his arms over his chest and pouted slightly like a young child.

"And I'm ending it!" Bobby nipped the problem right in the bud. He loved the Winchester boys, but seriously, they could really act like they were four years old at times.

"Ok, so if Fear is really in town, how the hell are we supposed to track it down?" Dean wondered.

"Beats me. Text ain't say nothin' about tracking Fear down." Bobby shrugged. "And besides, everybody's afraid of somethin'."

"Well, fear likes to take control when people are at their most vulnerable. Assuming that Fear himself works the same way…" Sam struggled to piece together the plan of action. How do you catch something that preys on everyone in all different shapes, sizes and scenarios who could absolutely strike anywhere, anytime? Like Bobby said, everyone is afraid of something.

"Yeah I got nothing." He shook his head. Great. This really was going to be a lot tougher than they thought.


	9. Chapter 9

**AN: I'm having trouble deciding on which storyline I want to post first for chapter 10 of this story. It's either going to be about a group of teenagers in the campgrounds where one of the mentioned characters died earlier in the story OR a small family in their new home that turned out to be a deal too good to be true. Anyway, here's chapter 9! Enjoy! –Amaximander500**

"What about the victims? Besides their fears and deaths, is there anything in common with them?" Dean asked as he paced around Bobby's living room into the darkening hours of nightfall. The sun had officially been down for at least three hours now, but the work effort the three men had already invested in was much longer.

"Tyson was the only one diagnosed with Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. Alex, Anne, Devin and Todd were all clean. No records of them suffering from any type of mental illness or trauma prior to Fear killing them," Sam said.

"Anythin' with their ages?" Bobby asked.

"Tyson was 14, Alex was 28, Anne was 38, Devin was 23, and Todd was three."

"So nothin' there." Bobby crossed his arms over his chest. "Any of them live near each other?"

"No, they all lived in different towns. Far as we can tell none of them knew of each other's existence."

"Well, what about where they all died? Ya said Tyson, Anne, Alex and Devin all died in a non-residential place."

"Yeah, Tyson in the hotel swimming pool, Anne in an amusement park, Alex in an airport, and Devin in the campgrounds," Dean said.

"Wow, here's something we missed," Sam said studying the same map he had been studying for what felt like a thousand years now. "The one place that's been throwing us off is the Talanski house, right? That was the only place, so far, that a person died on private property. But check this out." Sam circled in a red marker all of the places where their current victims had died and flipped the map over to show Dean and Bobby. "The hotel and the amusement park are a mile down the road from each other. The airport is about five miles away from there. Going the opposite direction of the hotel, about 10 miles away, is the campgrounds."

"Son of a bitch…" Dean said staring at the map and connecting the red circled Sam and drawn on with his eyes. "And where is the Talanski's house on this map?"

"The Talanski house is right by the airport." Sam highlighted Todd's house which existed in a segment of surrounding neighborhoods that were all built around or near the airport. "Their property is about two miles away."

"So Fear has been striking within a 10 mile radius…" Dean nodded. "Airport's closed now, right? It's not a public, hour-by-hour, fly all over the world airport, right?"

"No, it's mostly used as an aviation school. Guess that's why they do all of the skydiving classes and sessions there." Sam shrugged.

"And the amusement park?" Dean asked.

"That's closed for the night too."

"So now there's only two places where Fear could strike next at this hour; the campgrounds or that neighborhood."

"Guess if he's staying within a 10 mile radius, the three of us can split between the neighborhood and the campgrounds," Sam said.

"Sounds like a plan to me," Bobby said. "Now all we have to do is figure out a way to stop Fear."

"Simple. When we find Fear attacking his next victim, all we gotta do is get that person to face their fears. Then Fear is powerless." Dean smirked.

"Yeah, because it's really that easy for someone to just get over the thing their afraid of!" Sam laughed. "Dean you can't even get on an airplane without downing half a bottle of whisky and death gripping a barf bag."

"Oh and like you're so brave when it comes to facing a clown, Sam! Planes crash!"

"And clowns kill!"

"Don't you two idjits start that bickering crap again like ya did earlier!" Bobby said. "I gotta couple of shot guns stashed away and I'm not afraid to introduce ya to them if I have to!"

"Look, ya both have a point. If the person ain't afraid of what Fear is makin 'em see or do that could make Fear powerless. But it ain't that simple for someone to just get over what they're afraid of. And that ain't considering the fact that some kinda mental disorder or traumatic event happened in the person's life," Bobby added in.

"And with our luck the next victim will be someone who suffers from some kind of medical condition," Dean said thinking about that good 'ol reliable Winchester luck of theirs. "So how are we doing this?"

"You and Sam take the neighborhood. Reckon they already know your faces there, agents. I'll take the campgrounds. And remember' don't show any fear."


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

**AN: I've decided to go with the small family and their deal too good to be true. I'm still working on the group of teenagers in the campgrounds storyline. Also, this chapter was inspired by the man who played Mr. Wright on Ned's Declassified School Survival Guide, Meshach Taylor, and his ghost story on Celebrity Ghost Stories, as well as various**

26 year old Allison was excited. She had just bought her first time with her long term boyfriend Ben who she had a promising future with. It was a nice, little three bedroom, one-and-a-half bath house on a nice sized piece of property for their little family of three. There was a blooming garden and lush green bushes in the front yard and the backyard, as well as a hand built deck that was perfect for entertaining. A horseshoe court was dug out and placed precisely along one side of the yard, and in the back beneath the tall and proud green trees stood a lawn swing.

The previous couple had been a retired, older couple with kids who lived on the opposite coast of them, and they were looking to move elsewhere; into a place with more people their age or closer to their age since they were mainly surrounded by younger people and younger families.

But what had once been Allison's dream home was quickly turning into a deal too good to be true. During the day, the sun shined through making the picture frames along the walls glow with life. When the windows were opened and the breeze picked up, the smell of the fully bloomed flowers and fresh cut lawn delighted the senses.

But when darkness fell, and the day turned into night, the cozy, warm atmosphere disappeared. The house went pitch black, the wood floors creaked, the windowless "L" shaped hallway felt even narrower that what it really was, and the hallway felt completely still and out of sync with the rest of the flow of the house. And it always felt like someone was around the corner silently watching and studying one's every move.

At night Allison swore up and down she saw the shadow of the footsteps walking around, up and down, the hallway from the soft glow of the LED nightlight plugged into the bathroom wall outlet. And it didn't help that the sound of slow moving, rhythmically placed foot-meets-floor steps followed the movement of the shadows.

Slowly the footsteps made their way up the hallway. Each creaking and squeaking of the wooden floor boards brought whoever it was closer to the opposite end of the hall; closer to the room where Allison and Ben's young and defenseless child, Tyler, slept within the comfort and familiarity of the tall white bars that made up his crib. No doubt he was on his belly, arms up by his turned head which always faced the door, his favorite blue pacifier placed in between his lips. He'd never see the unimaginable horror that was about to come. But whoever it was would have a glow of an image of the child sleeping peacefully in the baby blue sheet lined crib provided by the light of the moon.

But then, out of nowhere, when the footsteps finally did make their way to the family's end of the hallway, they'd stop, vanish, disappear like they were never there. The shadows would diminish as though someone or something had covered up their light source, and all was quiet. The heaviness that weighed in the air, the fear that polluted the space, died out and the house, once again, solely belonged to Allison and her family.

The first time she had seen and heard the footsteps Allison instantly thought that someone was in the house. She shook Ben awake and even hit him on the head once to pull him out of his slumber. She mentally cursed her frustrations on him being such a god forsaken heavy sleeper and pointed to the door. She asked him if Ben saw the shadow of the footsteps, and he did. He watched as they walked up and down for a few moments before he reached into his nightstand and pulled out the gun he kept handy. Ben also made a mental note to thank his luck for having grown up in a military-enthusiast family.

Quickly loading the gun and prepping it ready to take a shot at whoever challenged the thought of harming his family, he crept out of bed and locked his eyes on the door. He could still see the shadow and now hear the footsteps walking up and down the hallway.

Slowly reaching out for the doorknob time seemed to stand still between Ben's hand making contact with the doorknob and Ben ripping the door open and pointing the gun.

In the moment that the door flung to the side and nearly hit the wall everything went still. The footsteps stopped, the shadows disappeared, and the heaviness that filled the air lifted. But still Ben kept his guard up. He searched the entire house, every door, every nook, every cranny, every square inch of the property, but there was nothing to be found.

Allison swore up and down someone was there. She even reminded Ben that he saw and heard the footsteps too! Ben complied, nodding his head and tucking his gun away.

"I know. I know I saw and heard the footsteps, but there's no one here. Nothing was disturbed!" he said.

"Then how do you explain it?" Allison asked.

"Look, it's a new house, a new environment. As my father would say it's unfamiliar territory. It's probably just all the stress and natural distress of sleeping in an unfamiliar place."

Seemingly relaxed and thinking that stress and anxiety probably caused the event Allison agreed with Ben. But she couldn't let herself fall back asleep without seeing for herself that Tyler was alright. He was. He was belly down, head turned to the side, lying in his crib peacefully. And the next time the footsteps happened, Allison told herself to just shrug it off and blame it on stress.

But how can you possibly and continuously blame stress for the same, re-occurring thing? The reasonable thing would be to think that houses made strange noises and they breathe during the warmer weather. No doubt Allison and Ben left a few windows open to eliminate the overwhelming smell of a new environment. When they were living in their apartment they used to keep their windows open during the warmer weather. But the windows they kept open in this house were only opened just above a crack, and they were locked. There was no way someone would be able to cut the screen, reach their hand in and unlock the window. And the only window left open was the one in their bedroom…

There was no explaining anymore where the footsteps were coming from that would fall under the category of rational. They weren't supposed to be there, but there they were. Walking up and down the hallway only seen in shadow, and their rhythmic thump, thump, thumping pattern made it sound like someone was slowly pacing up and down the hall, like a killer looking for its hiding victim.

And then, just after the footsteps disappeared and all had been quiet and peaceful for a few minutes, and Allison laid her weary head back on her pillow, like a well oiled machine the slow paced, heavy set footsteps would start again, starting at the family's end of the hall, just outside the master bedroom door adjacent to the room where little Tyler slept. As slow as they crept up the hall was as slow as they made their way down the hall and around the corner of the "L" shaped hallway once more. And then they'd disappear, not to be heard from again until whoever, or whatever, it was decided to walk back up and down the hallway once more.

Eventually the footsteps stopped. Allison was able to sleep peacefully for one night with no disturbances. But the footsteps had been replaced with a new disturbance.

It was just after 2:30 in the morning on a clear, brightly lit moonlighted night when the sound of something scratching against the screen of a window bounced off the walls and echoed throughout the master bedroom. Allison stirred awake from her sleep just as the sound went from a window screen being scratched to a voice whispering, "Psst!"

Allison reached over to Ben's side of the bed but instead of her hand meeting his shoulder, it made contact with the mattress. And it was in that moment that Allison remembered that Ben was covering his co-worker's night shift tonight.

Slowly Allison turned to face the window. Seen only by the moonlight stood a tall, dark, male figure that began scratching the screen on the window once again with his finger.

"Psst! Allison!" the figure called in a distanced hushed tone.

Allison froze in fear as the figure called to her once more. Even in hushed tone, she still recognized that voice.

"I can see you're awake. Don't try to pretend you're asleep on me!"

The goose bumps raised on Allison's arm, the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. She shook her head, thinking and muttering, "No…" as she stared at the shadowed figure.

"Allison! Come here a sec!"

"No…no, I'm done with you! I swore on it! You can't be here!"

"I'm not gonna hurt you this time. I just wanna talk to you, really."

"How did you find me?"

"I know you, Allison. I remember the day you told me you wanted to live here. That it was such a beautiful place, quiet suburbs but not too isolated from city-like life. It also reminded you of your grandparents' old neighborhood where you practically grew up and felt more at home than in your actual home. But I gotta say, I always pictured the two of us here."

"The only place you would have us tougher forever was either in jail or underground!"

"Nah," even in the dark Allison could clearly see the figure shaking his head. "I told you, if you didn't scream and followed my lead you'd be just fine. I've done it before and only got caught once. And even then, I slipped away with just a slap on the wrist."

As the clouds in the sky began to move and shift, the brought glow of the mood shined more intensely on the shadowed figure revealing his cold, pale facial features, blood tinted face, and blood stained shirt. It was only for a second when a car went by, and its headlights flashed on the figure, but Allison could clearly see her ex's blood soaked white t-shirt clinging to his upper body. The tears and dirt on the shirt told the story.

"Get out of here!" Allison demanded even as she trembled like a tiny little leaf. "Now!"

"Don't let my appearance get to you. I only did what I had to. The bitch wouldn't stop screaming….Now," he picked his hand up, raised one finger and slowly lowered it so he was pointing to the locked latch. "Open the window!" he said quickly.

"No."

"Allison. Open. The. Window!" he said more irritated.

"No!"

Allison's ex began breathing heavily, his face twisted, his eyes narrowed, his brows down, and all he saw was red. He began to grunt almost like an irritated bull before he screamed. His voice was low, deep, demanding, and almost demonic, just like Allison remembered, as her ex screamed, "Open the window! Open the window!" over and over again.

Allison trembled and shook with fear. In her mind her house was shaking as hard as her heart was pounding. And all she kept hearing was an endless verse of, "Open the window! Open the window! Open the window now or I'll kill the kid!"

"You stay away from him!" Allison tore the sheets off her body and threw herself out of bed before she ran for her bedroom door, then across the hall and into Tyler's nursery. She grabbed her 10 month old sleeping son, startling him awake, and ran out of the room.

The first door Allison saw was the one she pulled open and locked herself and her son inside. She thought it was odd that the living room closet had a key lock on it when she first saw it, but now she was flat-out grateful!

Tyler's blood curdling cries were amplified in the confided small space he and his mom were hiding in. Allison tried her best to calm down her son, but she'd never be able to do that if she couldn't even calm down her own racing mind that was trapped in panic mode.

She reached into the diaper bag that was kept handy in the closet and pulled out one of Tyler's spare pacifiers, or as Ben called it "the mute button," and popped it into his mouth, knowing that it always calmed him down. Tyler accepted it and sucked on the pacifier with a vengeance.

The heavy footsteps that Allison continuously heard that mysteriously didn't seem to have a source were now being heard coming down the hall over Tyler's small, muffled cries.

"You can't hide from me, Allison! I KNOW you! I know you a lot better than you think!"

The footsteps rounded the corner of the hallway as Allison's psycho ex-boyfriend walked into the living room. A memory that took Allison years to repress now flashed in her mind like the brightest star in the sky: her ex ALWAYS more heavy set, steel toed boots.

Time stood still and Allison held her breath as a pound on the door slammed into hers and Tyler's ears and her ex-boyfriend grabbed a hold of Allison's neck. Now she understood why he always more steel toed boots.


End file.
